Jackson stood in the quiet glow of his apartment, the city lights flickering through the windows. The air was warm, tinged with the faint aroma of her perfume—a scent he had come to associate with comfort. The world outside felt miles away, insignificant compared to the woman curled up on the couch.

He watched her from the doorway, a rare, peaceful smile softening his features. She had her legs tucked beneath her, lost in the pages of a book, her face illuminated by the dim light of the lamp. Her presence grounded him in a way nothing else could. No hospital chaos, no Avery family legacy—just this. Her.

"Hey," Jackson said softly, stepping further into the room. His voice broke the silence but didn’t disturb the serenity.

She glanced up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. "Hey yourself. Long day?"

Jackson shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Better now."

He crossed the room and sank onto the couch beside her, letting out a tired sigh. Their knees brushed, and that simple contact sent warmth through him. She closed her book and leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"You always say that," she teased lightly.

"Because it’s true," Jackson murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair. "This—being here with you—this is home."